The value of a life.

Why isn’t what I do “living a life”? Because I don’t consider it to be. I’m always vaguely apologetic when people ask “what do you do?” I shuffle and deflect and respond that I don’t do much, I kind of write, sort of, it’s nothing really. I dismiss how I spend my days and give the impression that writing isn’t really that important to me...

Negotiating the contradictions.

I’ve mostly quit smoking. Kind of. I’m trying. I read Allan Carr’s book “Easy Way for Women to Quit Smoking” last week. He’s quite the guru and the book is the bomb; this is the best I’ve ever felt about quitting, despite the fact that I’m still sneaking a puff or two every so often. And yes, I know that’s the road to ruin or at least the road to back to half a pack a day but for some reason or other, despite my change in attitude and despite the interesting things I learned about smoking, I just can’t bring myself to fully cut the cord, pull the trigger, break the connection. The good thing is that those puffs are starting to taste quite nasty...